Chapter 4

I ran into them at the front desk when I returned that evening.

They were carrying armfuls of shopping bags. Olivia had acquired a silk scarf, too.

Lucas looked startled to see me walk in perfectly fine.

“Where have you been all afternoon?”

“Walking around.”

I pressed the elevator button.

Ethan stepped in front of the doors.

“You're not even going to pretend anymore, are you?”

“Think what you want.” I looked up at him without much interest. “Move, please. I'd like to get some rest.”

My indifference seemed to sting. His expression turned ugly, and he abruptly stepped aside.

“Fine. Let's see how long you keep this up.”

He turned to my brothers.

“If she doesn't want to be with us, she can figure out her own flight home. Nathan, don't buy her a ticket for tomorrow night.”

Lucas eagerly joined in.

“Eight o'clock tomorrow. If you can't get a seat, I guess you can stay here and become an islander.”

Olivia tugged Ethan's sleeve.

“Don't be like that. What if she really can't get a ticket?”

“She's so capable. Let her figure it out.”

The doors slid shut, cutting off their deliberately raised voices.

I leaned against the elevator wall and checked my phone.

There wasn't an eight o'clock flight to Chicago the following night.

They had probably booked for the morning after that. They'd told me the wrong time so I'd panic when I couldn't find the flight and eventually come begging for help.

I opened the booking app and bought a seat on a two o'clock nonstop the next afternoon.

Not only would I travel without them, I'd leave before them.

I had a job in Paris to prepare for. I couldn't keep putting that off.

This vacation had lasted long enough.

I got up early on my last morning. After packing and checking that I hadn't left anything behind, I sat by the little window and emailed the HR team in Paris.

We confirmed that I'd begin remote onboarding the following Monday and fly to the French headquarters in two weeks.

Then I took my suitcase downstairs to check out.

As I crossed the lobby, I saw the four of them in the breakfast restaurant. Olivia had a plate of little pastries in front of her, and Ethan was peeling an orange for her. Nathan and Lucas sat across from them, talking and laughing.

They looked like a complete family without me.

I didn't stop to say hello. I went to the desk and returned my key card.

Once I was in the taxi to the airport, a new message appeared in the group chat.

Ethan: “Lobby at six tonight. We're going to the airport. Don't expect us to wait for you.”

I read it and tapped Leave Group.

The confirmation popped up on the screen: You left “Party of Five.”

Then I blocked Ethan, Nathan, Lucas, and Olivia.

Not just in the messaging app. Their phone numbers, their social media accounts—every way they had of reaching me.

When I finished, I leaned back and let out a long breath.

Four hours after takeoff, I landed in Chicago.

I took a taxi to the home Ethan and I had shared for three years.

Olivia's bunny slippers were waiting by the door. Her wool blanket lay across the couch. On the coffee table were her favorite snacks and the heated eye masks Ethan had bought her.

She was everywhere in that apartment.

There was hardly anything of mine.

I went into the bedroom and took out a large suitcase.

I had only a few outfits for the season and two bottles of skin care products.

In the jewelry box I'd once treasured was the first necklace Ethan had given me. I took it out and looked at it. The silver chain had begun to tarnish.

I'd held on to it long after it had stopped being what it once was, just as I'd held on to him.

I dropped it in the trash.

From the desk drawer, I took out two documents I'd printed in advance.

One was a signed statement ending our relationship and confirming that I was moving out. The other was a change-of-address confirmation.

The year before, while I was arranging a home purchase, I'd used Nathan's address for my personal mail and account records. With a friend's help, I'd now finished moving everything away from it.

I laid the two documents neatly on the dining table. On top of them, I placed my key and the building access card that had once made me feel I belonged.

At the door, suitcase in hand, I looked back.

Three years in this place. Ten years loving him.

What a waste it had all been.

The lock clicked behind me.

I went straight to the elevator without looking back. No tears. No screaming.

By then, I had run out of anything to say.